Frozen In Place
by Sevvyn
Summary: A treasure hunter by trade, a young Nord by the name of Ariana Iceblade finds herself stuck between a rock and a hard place – where will she go? Who can she trust? What will she become? Rated T for violence/gore. Sparse updates.
1. Prologue

Frozen In Place

Main Character: Ariana Iceblade

Pairing: Ariana x ?

Summary: A treasure hunter by trade, the young Nord Ariana Iceblade finds herself stuck between a rock and a hard place – where will she go? Who can she trust? What will she become?

* * *

_Thu-thu-thud, thu-thu-thud, thu-thu-thud…_

The woman opened her eyes at the familiar sound of horses' hooves pounding heavily on the earth. In the pre-dawn light, the horses seemed to fly past – their riders shouting encouragements to the beasts, urging them to go even faster.

'_Divines, someone must be in a hurry_,' she thought to herself, '_The sun isn't up yet. What is so important that they can't wait for a few hours_? _Is there some sort of race going on?_'

The woman sighed. With all of that noise, there was no way she'd fall back asleep. Groggily, she started to sit up in her sleeping bag, intent on preparing for the day ahead, only to jolt at the distinctive clang of steel on steel. Making a split-second decision, the woman scrambled to hide herself and her things in the branches of a nearby tree as sounds of battle became increasingly louder. She barely dared to breathe as more men on horses rode by - this second wave of riders went at a slower pace than the first, no longer pursuing, but combing the woods. They were obviously searching for something.

'_But what_?'

From her vantage point she scanned the area, trying to discern what was going on. As a shadow approached, she leaned forward to get a better look. Unfortunately, that small shift in weight was the straw that broke the camel's back – or in this case, the movement that broke the tree's branch. The young tree was unable to support the combined weight of her pack (which contained her armor, weapons, and tools, among other things) and herself. This sent her crashing to the ground, drawing the attention of whoever was in the immediate vicinity.

"Hey! I've found another one, sir!" called an unfamiliar voice. "Over here! She was hiding up in the trees, and tried to launch a sneak attack. Unluckily for her, she seems to have picked the wrong tree. Seems to have taken a nasty fall. Might be going into shock."

"Hmm. That may be a problem. Heal her enough to speak – we may have some… _questions_ for her later. Bind her, and put her with the others. Oh, and make sure to keep an eye up in the trees. Who knows how many more of these damned Stormcloaks are lying in wait? Double the guard around the prisoners."

"Yes sir, General Tullius!"

As unfamiliar, imposing forms converged on her from all sides, she seemed to shrink in on herself. Overwhelmed and confused, as well as hurt from the fall, it came as a welcome relief when darkness swept across her vision.

* * *

A/N: Hooray! After years and years of reading other people's fics, I've finally gone ahead and written my own! Unfortunately, I do not have a beta, so I will just do the best that I can and try to make this sound coherent.

This will be mainly focused on Ariana's adventures. No pairing has been decided yet, though I do have a few (male) characters in mind; I'm thinking of making a poll, but I need more suggestions! Through this story, I want to try to explore the characters of Skyrim and go on a journey of my own into the world of writing. It may be boring in the beginning, but I plan to switch up some things to make it a bit more interesting. If you have any questions or suggestions, please review and share them with me! :)

Much love,

7


	2. Chapter 1: The Road To Sovngarde

Frozen In Place

Main Character: Ariana Iceblade

Pairing: Ariana x ?

Summary: A treasure hunter by trade, the young Nord Ariana Iceblade finds herself stuck between a rock and a hard place – where will she go? Who can she trust? What will she become?

* * *

Awareness returned to her bit by tiny bit. First, she noticed the slow, rhythmic movement of a carriage. Then came the sounds of creaking wood and horses hooves, of faraway conversations carried on the wind. Attempting to stretch, she discovered that her hands and feet were bound. Realization dawned upon her as the memories of what happened came back to her. Then, and only then, did she open her eyes.

No one had yet noticed that she was awake, so she took the opportunity to observe her surroundings, and discovered that there were three Nord men – a muscled blonde, a lanky brunette, and an imposing man with red-gold hair – being transported in the carriage with her. All four of them had their hands and feet bound tightly with rope, and for some reason, the redhead to her right was gagged as well. Brown eyes clashed with blue as the red-haired man met her searching eyes. His eyes seemed to pierce her, seeking her strengths and judging her weaknesses. Struggling to keep a straight face, she looked away, ending… whatever that was. At that moment, the carriage began to descend down a very bumpy hill, and she gasped as she was suddenly made aware of her own injuries. The blonde man heard her and, realizing that she had awoken, began to address her.

"Hey, you. Finally awake! You were trying to cross the border right? Walked right into that imperial ambush, same as us," he said, gesturing towards the red-haired man and himself, "And that thief over there."

'That thief over there,' the brunette, immediately took offense.

"Damn you Stormcloaks!" he spat. ""Skyrim was fine until you came along. Empire was nice and lazy – if they hadn't been looking for you, I could have stolen that horse and been halfway to Hammerfell." He looked away from the blonde man, and faced the woman.

"You there. You and me, we shouldn't be here. It's these Stormcloaks the Empire wants–"

"We're all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief," the blonde interjected loudly.

Apparently, the man driving the carriage had had enough of the chatter, and yelled at the prisoners to quiet down. Ignoring the guard, the thief gestured toward the redhead and his unusual bindings.

"What's wrong with him, huh?"

"Watch your tongue! You're speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King!" the blonde stated vehemently.

"Ulfric? The Jarl of Windhelm?" the thief said, disbelieving. "You're the leader of the rebellion… but if they've captured you… Oh, gods, where are they taking us?"

Subdued, the blonde replied in Ulfric's stead: "I don't know where we're going… but Sovngarde awaits."

"No!" The thief began to panic. "This can't be happening. This isn't happening!"

The Nord woman watched the exchange quietly, trying to absorb as much information from the conversation as she could. Inwardly, she was cursing the gods for their poor sense of humor – surely they could have found other ways to amuse themselves than putting her on the road to the chopping block just as she was about to return home for the first time in more than a decade? She had done nothing wrong that she could think of. In fact, she hadn't even broken the law in the last five years! Well, except for that one time... Still, her money, treasures, trophies, titles, letters, gifts from her old friends – all of it would be gone. _She_ would be gone. She wondered what her old friend Farkas would think if he knew what was about to happen.

"…A Nord's last thoughts should be of home."

"Rorikstead. I'm… I'm from Rorikstead," stated the thief. "What about you?"

He had directed the last statement at the woman across from them. She stared at him for a moment, and eventually decided it could hardly do any harm to tell them.

"I grew up in Whiterun. That has always been home to me, even if I've been away the last ten years. I was… just heading back. I didn't realize how bad things had become here." She said this with her head held high. Whatever was coming, she would face it head on.

'_At least until my head comes off,_' she thought to herself. Shaking her head, she chuckled at her own morbid humor and stared off into the distance. '_Divines, why is this happening now?_'

They were all silent for a short while, until a guard rode up on horseback to report to his superiors.

"General Tullius, sir! The headsman is waiting in Helgen!"

"Good! Let's get this over with."

'_Oh, gods. It really is true. We're going to be killed_.'

Suddenly, it seemed as though she was looking through someone's eyes. Hearing with someone else's ears. Everything became detached and she could no longer move as she listened to the thief's pitiful appeal to those heartless gods, the Divines Shor, Mara, Dibella, Kynareth, and Akatosh. The gods were the ones who had abandoned her to such a cruel fate. She was but twenty-seven! There was so much left for her to live for!

"Helgen? I used to be sweet on a girl from there. I wonder…"

The blonde rebel seemed intent on inane chatter. Surprisingly, it helped. As he continued talking, she found herself slowly relaxing and settling back into her own skin. Resigning herself to her fate, she began to listen intently as the rebel and the thief swapped stories, occasionally putting in her own two cents. If she was going to die, she might as well die among those she knew well enough to consider friends.

As they approached and entered the village, a crowd of onlookers appeared. One boy, sitting on a porch, seemed surprised by their appearance.

* * *

_"Who are they, daddy? Where are they going?" _

_"You need to go inside, little cub."_

_"Why? I want to watch the soldiers!"_

_"Inside the house. Now."_

_"Yes, papa."_

* * *

The carriage jolted to a stop.

"Let's go. Shouldn't keep the guards waiting for us," said the blonde.

"No, I don't suppose that would be a very good idea, now would it?" the woman replied, standing up to exit the carriage.

The thief stood up quickly, and began to protest, his panic evident.

"No, wait! We're not rebels!"

"Face your death with some courage, thief."

"You've got to tell them we weren't with you, this is a mistake!" he cried.

"Step towards the block when we call your name. One at a time!" the woman in armor called out. She appeared to be an Imperial Captain, judging by the helm and armor that she wore. The young guard next to her began to read from a list of names in a leather-bound ledger. One by one, the carts of prisoners were emptied and they were moved to stand near the block.

"Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm."

As the dignified Jarl of Windhelm prowled forward with his back straight and his head held high, the blonde called out a goodbye.

"It has been an honor, Jarl Ulfric."

"Ralof of Riverwood."

The newly-named Ralof calmly and silently took his place near the front of the group of prisoners.

"Lokir of Rorikstead."

"No! I'm not a rebel! You can't do this!"

Lokir started to run. He hadn't even made it forty paces when he was shot down by one of the Imperial archers.

* * *

_"Papa!"_

_"Damn it, cub! I told you to go inside!"_

_"Why would they do that to him, papa? Why would they kill him?"_

_"Because he was a bad man."_

_"He didn't look bad to me, he just looked scared! Who was he?"_

_"Go back inside cub! We'll be having a _talk_ later."_

_"But, papa!"_

_"Now!"_

* * *

"Anyone else feel like running?" the officer shouted angrily, making a point to glare at each and every person present.

When no one dared to move, her partner went back to his list, glanced at the remaining woman, and looked down at his list again before pausing.

"You there. Step forward."

He waited a moment for her to come closer, before speaking in a softer voice.

"Who… are you?"

She stared at him blankly. They didn't even know who she was, and they were going to execute her? What in Oblivion? Were these Imperials stupid as well as murderous?

"I am Ariana Iceblade," she spat. "Of Whiterun, returning from Cyrodiil."

"Whiterun?" the guard paled slightly as he wrote her name at the bottom of the list. "You picked a bad time to come home to Skyrim, kinswoman."

He turned to the officer next to him.

"Captain, what should we do? She's not on the list."

The Imperial Captain didn't even give her a second glance.

"Forget the list. She goes to the block."

"By your orders, Captain." He looked back at Ariana and said, "I'm sorry, kinswoman. At least you'll die here in your homeland. Follow the captain, prisoner."

* * *

A/N: Oooooh, darn. I ended up mostly going with the game script on this one, but I _did_ throw in some little twists. And you got some little tidbits about Ariana's past! 1,500 words is a pretty good chapter length, I think. I'll keep trying to increase the length and detail as we go on. :)

More importantly, what do you think? Questions, comments? Things I could do better? Pairing suggestions? Just want to chat? R&amp;R! I'll happily reply to as many as I can.

Much love,

7


	3. Chapter 2: Fearless In Death

Frozen In Place

Main Character: Ariana Iceblade

Pairing: Ariana x ?

Summary: A treasure hunter by trade, the young Nord Ariana Iceblade finds herself stuck between a rock and a hard place – where will she go? Who can she trust? What will she become?

* * *

As Ariana moved to join the rest of the prisoners, she noticed a short-haired man at the very front, facing the prisoners. Although he was dressed in the garb of the Legion, it was hard to tell his station – he didn't wear a captain's helm, yet the others seemed to defer to him. He had a very sour look on his face as his eyes roved over the prisoners.

"Look at him," Ralof whispered. She hadn't even realized that he had been standing next to her. "General Tullius, the military governor. And it looks like the Thalmor are with him." He gestured toward a pair of Altmer standing by with peculiar grins on their pointed faces. "I bet they had something to do with this."

The General's eyes suddenly stopped their searching, settling on the bound form of Ulfric Stormcloak. Tullius scowled before addressing the man.

"Ulfric Stormcloak, some here in Helgen call you a hero. But a hero doesn't use a power like the Voice to _murder_ his king and usurp his throne. _You_ started this war, _you_ plunged Skyrim into chaos! And now, the Empire is going to put you down and restore the peace!" shouted Tullius.

The other prisoners looked on silently. Ulfric made no move to reply. All was silent for a moment – it was as though time had frozen.

_RREAAAARRGGGHRRRN!_

A strange sound broke the silence. Anger and malice given form, it fell down upon them like a hammer on an anvil, startling everything back into motion. Guards unsheathed their weapons as prisoners' muscles tensed and everyone looked to the sky.

"What… what was that?" one of the guards asked.

"It's nothing. Carry on!"

"Yes, General Tullius!" the captain replied. She turned to a priestess who had been standing off to the side. "Give them their last rites."

The woman in tan robes stepped forward. She raised her hands in the air, fingers extended and palms facing the prisoners, and began to recite.

"As we commend your souls to Aetherius, blessings of the Eight Divines upon you—"

"For the love of Talos, shut up and let's get this over with!" a burly Nord with dark red hair interrupted the Priestess, striding up to the block. Ariana listened to this interaction with interest.

'_The _Eight_ Divines? These Legionnaires seem to take every opportunity to deny Nord heritage and beliefs and throw it in their faces, don't they_? _It takes two armies to persist a war, after all. Perhaps if they wouldn't be so uncaring about those they insult, it would never have come to this. Mutual ignorance.'_ Ariana thought to herself.

That was one of the main goals of the Stormcloak movement – the freedom to practice their religion and worship Talos (the Ninth Divine, belief in whom had been systematically and violently suppressed by Thalmor Justiciars) openly and without fear of persecution was something that many Nords felt was important. Talos' story was one of glory and honor, values that all Nords are brought up to revere. For the governors of the Empire to deny the Nords' historically fundamental concepts was seen by the Nords as a betrayal of their people.

"As you wish," the Priestess sniffed haughtily before walking off.

Impatient, the rebel pressed on, seeming more irritated with the slight to his Divine than afraid of his impending death.

"Come on, I haven't got all morning."

As he was forced to kneel down in the dirt, with a boot on his back holding him down, the Nord added one last parting shot: "My ancestors are smiling at me, Imperials. Can you say the same?"

Ariana wouldn't tear her eyes away. She would bear witness to his death with respect. To look away as he died would be to deny that he was worthy of recognition for his deeds in life. His bravery in the face of despair had won him that small honor, at least in her eyes. She hardly had to worry about the nightmares if she wasn't going to live through another night, right?

A deep breath as muscles strained to lift a heavy axe, a _whoosh_ of air as the axe fell, a spray of warm blood, and it was over. The red hair, now so much redder, became slick and wet with the man's lifeblood as it was left to dribble out on the dirt.

Members of the audience screamed and shouted, one at a time, as if in some morbid play where each actor needed himself to be heard. Some cried for the bloodshed to stop, others called for justice, and still more wanted the bloody death to continue.

Ralof, at her side, spoke softly with a sigh.

"As fearless in death as he was in life."

She turned to look up at the man next to her, only to see that he was far away. Maybe he was remembering a glorious battle with that same red-haired warrior. Perhaps they had shared a drink, once upon a time? Stories around the campfire in the dead of winter?

"Next, the Nord in the rags."

Ariana was startled from her thoughts as another unearthly roar shook the sky, louder and likely closer this time. She wasn't the only one. Many of the guards had their hands on their hilts, although at least they hadn't yet drawn their swords. The listkeeper turned to his captain.

"There it is again. Did you hear that?"

"I said, next prisoner," the Captain insisted loudly, ignoring the rising concern of her subordinates.

Looking around for a moment, trying to locate the "next prisoner," something clicked. Ariana hadn't realized it initially, but _she_ was the only Nord in the company wearing rags. All of the other prisoners, even Ralof, were wearing some sort of armor. Only hers had been taken from her, likely when she was unconscious. The Intricate Armor — the only thing her father had left her, and a relic of times long passed — and Frostbite, an invaluable gift from one of her oldest friends. They had been taken! Oh, but gods, she had other things to worry about, didn't she?

"To the block, prisoner. Nice and easy." Listkeeper continued to try to coax her, but she wasn't about to move. Frozen in place, her head turned toward Ralof and his eyes met hers. Her gave her a short, sharp nod of his acceptance to her silent plea before she turned back and marched forward to meet her doom.

'_At least I will be remembered for a little while longer. Perhaps I'll even be missed_,' she thought to herself, still bitter about the loss of her possessions. '_And now at least I'll have a chance to be with my family in Sovngarde. See my father face to face for the first time_. _Maybe cuss him out for dying and leaving me in that damned orphanage_.'

Having already wasted more than enough time, Ariana Iceblade walked briskly to the block, doing her best to ignore the blood that was already soaking into the wood, and the severed head that had been left on the ground. That was when she noticed it.

Something felt… off. It was as though the air had become heavier, thicker with some unnamable substance. As she was forced to her knees before her executioner, her eyes focused on something in the distance. As he raised his axe, a black shape flew through the sky, releasing a terrifying sound — the same horrible noise that they had already heard twice that morning. As the black shadow crashed down upon the top of a nearby tower, the headsman's axe fell… four feet from its mark. The headsman himself couldn't maintain his footing as the ground shook, and had dropped the axe onto the foot of the imperial captain, severing it.

Ariana raised her disbelieving eyes to the top of the tower, and took a moment to inwardly cower in fear. It truly was a beast of legend. Black as night, as long as a tower was tall and half the height, covered in spiny scales and spikes sharper than any sword, eyes that burned golden… there was no doubt in her mind that the creature could be anything but a—

"Dragon!"

* * *

A/N: It seems that my average chapter length will be about 1600 words per chapter, and let me tell you, there will likely be MANY chapters. I've got a basic outline for the first few quests and twists in the main questline already set up, and I'm just working on elaborating it for you at the moment. I'm actually thinking of changing the rating to M. I just realized that I've been describing a lot of blood recently… this is Skyrim, after all. How does anyone expect to get through a fic without mentioning a lot of blood? Still, I've got plans to touch on some adult themes (but not delve too heavily), so it's probably for the best. What do you think? R&amp;R!

Questions for reviewers: Am I being too wordy when I describe things? What about my phrasing? Does it seem weird (in a bad way)? What do you think of Ariana? Sorry about the flood, but I really want some feedback. I've never done this before, and, although this story has gotten over 100 views, I haven't gotten a ton of commentary.

I know I've been doing some pretty rapid updates (Three in as many days? Really?), but it won't always be like this. I've got a lot about to start going on in my life so we'll see whether things go to hell or not. ;)


	4. Chapter 3: A Voice on the Wind

Frozen In Place

Main Character: Ariana Iceblade

Pairing: Ariana x ?

Summary: A treasure hunter by trade, the young Nord Ariana Iceblade finds herself stuck between a rock and a hard place – where will she go? Who can she trust? What will she become?

* * *

At the guard's exclamation, the once-blue sky lit up with spellfire and what was apparently dragonfire, casting bright lights and moving shadows that left her disoriented. Hands still bound, Ariana rolled to her feet and took a moment to gather her wits. Somewhere behind her, she heard Ralof call out to her.

"Hey, kinswoman, get up! Come on, the gods won't give us another chance!" Blindly following his voice, Ariana staggered toward the nearby tower, nearly crashing into another prisoner as they fled for cover while dodging falling debris from the rooftops.

Once inside, she bowed her head and blinked away the spots left in her vision. Looking around, she took stock of those around her before peeking through one of the windows. It seemed that she and Ralof were not the only ones to make it to safety. Also in the room were Ulfric Stormcloak and three of his men – two of whom lay wounded on the ground, one obviously injured and bleeding heavily. Another was ascending the stairs as she watched, likely to watch the sky for the dragon. Ralof approached the Jarl.

"Jarl Ulfric, what is that thing? Could the legends be true?"

"Legends don't burn down villages," he replied in a low voice. Ulfric's head whipped to the right, as if listening to something none of the others could hear. "We need to move – now!"

"There is nowhere for us to go but up," Ariana interjected. "If we step out there now, the dragon is sure to target us. Most of the buildings outside have been flattened – there is no cover."

"Well, then," Ralof responded, "Up through the tower! Let's go!"

Ariana had no time to doubt. In situations like these, she'd learned, it was best to keep going.

'_If I stop now, there's no way I'll be able to start moving again. I can't let the fear paralyze me,' _she thought to herself_. 'Oh, who am I kidding? This is _so_ much worse than that dwemer ruin near the border. I'd run that whole labyrinth again if it meant I didn't have to be here...' _

Jogging up the stairs after Ralof, she was suddenly knocked back by a shockwave as the wall to her right caved inward. The dragon's head came crashing through the wall like a giant's club, causing a portion of the wall to fly into the Stormcloak who had been waiting at the top of the stairs and pin him down. Ariana, not quite at the top yet, was pushed back a few steps into the wall. Ralof was bodily knocked down the flight of stairs and writhed in pain for a moment at the lower landing before Ariana rolled him out of view of the hole in the wall with her feet. She crouched between him and the opening, awaiting whatever would happen next.

Immediately, the dragon lifted its head to see through the hole it had made and, upon seeing the injured Stormcloak pinned to the ground, let loose a roar that sounded almost like speech, and a blast of white-hot flame lasting several minutes.

* * *

_(...To... ...ul!)_

* * *

The man's screams of pain were ear-shattering, and the smoke and scent of charred flesh made Ariana's eyes water, but she maintained her silence, refusing to give away her position and shielding Ralof from the sight of his comrade burning to death.

The dragon flew off with another roar, and Ariana looked back to see how everyone was faring. Ulfric was watching the door at the base of the stairs and his remaining men seemed to be preparing to move their injured comrade. She turned to Ralof and found him looking at her with wide eyes. She gave him a single nod, and the two approached the opening together to see if it was yet safe. They found that the dragon was nowhere in sight.

"Ariana," Ralof began, "See the inn on the other side? Jump through the roof and keep going!"

"What? That's crazy-"

"Go! We'll follow when we can!"

She looked at the blond man at her side and paused for a moment, assessing.

"I'll hold you to that," she replied, holding out her hand. Ralof gave her a grim smile as they clasped wrists.

"Go."

And she went. Taking a few steps back to give her a running start, Ariana sprinted towards where she knew the opening in the roof to be and jumped. Passing through a thick cloud of smoke, she was unable to see where she would land and ended up crashing down into a pile of embers that must have been a dresser at one point. Ignoring the small burns that she had acquired in her endeavor, she kept on moving through the house, down the stairs, and out the door. Once out in the open, Ariana had no idea which way to go.

"Just walk towards me, come on!

Hearing a vaguely familiar voice, Ariana turned to her right and saw the Listkeeper and two other men standing out in the middle of the street.

"Haming! You need to get over here now! Don't look up, just focus on me; you can do it!"

"I can't – I… I'm stuck!"

About ten yards away from the Listkeeper was a young boy, about ten years of age. His foot was pinned in between two heavy support beams from the building nearby. Each beam would likely be heavy enough to require four men to lift it off of the boy. Despite this, one of the Listkeeper's companions ran to the child to try to free him from the beams anyway.

"Torolf, wait! Don't break cover!"

"Damnit, Hadvar, this is my son! I'm not going to let him die," Torolf said as reached Haming. He strained his already exhausted muscles to lift the heavy beam off of his son.

When Haming's foot was finally freed, the young boy began to move towards Hadvar, only to turn back when he realized that his father was not following.

A great shadow passed over them all, and Torolf looked up at his doom with resignation. He couldn't flee in his current state. He shouldn't have even been able to lift that beam – he had torn all of his muscles with the effort. It was all worth it, though. Haming was safe. That was all that mattered.

"I'm done for, little cub. Go. Run for it!"

Haming paused a moment before turning his back on his father and running, just as Hadvar ordered everyone to get back and take cover. Ariana followed his suggestion and ran to join them behind a small house.

'_He doesn't deserve this_,' she thought to herself. '_Haming... he's just a child._'

The black dragon landed with a great thud where Haming had been standing only a minute beforehand and proceeded to lay waste to the surrounding area. Its maw opened, unleashing a growling voice like tearing metal. Flames leapt from the dragon's open mouth as once again, the strange tongue seemed to cut through the air, much more clearly this time, but conveying something that none of them was able to understand.

* * *

_(Kel drey ni viik, joor. Yol... Toor Shul!)_

* * *

As they all hid behind the remains of the burned-out building, Hadvar seemed to realize the small group had gained a member.

"Still alive prisoner?" he asked. "Keep close to me if you want to stay that way!" He turned to the only other adult in the group.

"Gunnar, take care of the boy! I have to find General Tullius and join the defense."

The old man replied with a nod of the head and a prayer for Hadvar's safety as Hadvar and Ariana took off in the direction from which the dragon had originally come. As they sprinted through the wreckage of the burning town, there were a number of close calls with the dragon. They had to employ what meager sneaking skills they had, staying close to walls and trying to avoid detection by an enemy that could burn them to a crisp within seconds. Weaving through buildings and battlefields, the pair eventually reached the entrance of the keep just as Ralof approached.

Hadvar bristled, suppressed rage evident in his every movement.

"Ralof, you damned traitor! Out of my way!"

The sentiment seemed to be shared. Ralof glared heatedly at the Listkeeper as the two squared off in the center of the plaza, seemingly oblivious to the very real threat of a fire-breathing dragon attacking the town.

"We're escaping, Hadvar. You're not stopping us this time."

'_This time? I've never actually tried to escape from the imperials before. I wonder if these two have some sort of history,_' Ariana thought to herself.

The two men continued to stare intently at each other. Ariana just stood by, sensing that she was missing something important here. The dragon passed low above their heads, startling the two men out of their battle of wills, and Hadvar turned away.

"Fine. I hope that dragon takes you all to Sovngarde."

Hadvar kept walking and never looked back. Ralof did the same, with Ariana following shortly behind him. While many men focused on battling the dragon, the two slipped through unnoticed and managed to safely reach a doorway set into the stone wall, where Ralof stopped for a moment. He turned to face Ariana and was about to say something when she shot him a pointed look. He frowned back at her.

"Ralof… what was that about?"

"Nothing to be concerned about at the moment," he replied. "For now, let's just focus on getting out alive, my friend. This is an entrance to Helgen Keep – if I remember correctly, there should be an underground passageway that will hopefully lead us to safety. Come on, I can cut you loose once we're inside and out of immediate danger."

"Of course. Let's go."

'_At least I'll finally get out of these damn shackles._'

* * *

A/N: Woo! Guess who's not dead? I hope that my only follower can forgive me. I'm a terrible human being for making you wait so long. So from the bottom of my heart, thank you for your support and for not completely giving up on me. :)

Much Love,

7


End file.
